Distraction
by Gasara
Summary: Chronicles of the Raven. Frustrated, disappointed, and suffering from a familiar nausea, Ilkar plans a quiet night locked away in his cabin. Hirad, however, believes the elf merely needs a distraction. Slash. Hirad x Ilkar.


**Author's Note:** I have finally added to The Raven fandom with this little offering of questionable content. I'm pleased that I've finally written something for my favourite books, but duly concerned that people will turn on me for doing _this_ to the characters. Lol. I can't help it; Hirad and Ilkar are just so perfect together!

I would greatly appreciate reviews if you have the time and inclination.

**Warnings:** This story contains a male x male relationship and will become quite graphic in content in future chapters. If this offends you, please don't go any further.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hirad, Ilkar, the Unknown, or anything else associated with the Chronicles / Legends of the Raven. Which is probably good, because I do things like this with them... No, everything belongs to the wonderful James Barclay, who I have no plans of suing if he uses elements of this in Ravensoul. Just so he knows...

* * *

**Alternate Remedy**

The soft glow of the oil lamp was doing just enough to keep the midnight gloom at bay. Shadows danced on the wall behind him as his breath caught the flame and provoked its wild flicker, chasing the darkness away with its pale light. And though the single flame filled the small cabin with its hazy radiance, it did nothing to shield him from the cold that was creeping in. The smell of salt laced the air, and the chill of the ocean night was tracing a shiver across his skin. Even bundled up in both shirt and jerkin, with his heavy winter cloak draped around his shoulders, the incessant cold kept him trembling.

However, this discomfort paled in comparison to the rolling nausea assaulting his stomach, and the deep, throbbing headache that threatened to knock him over. It was only his elbows on the tabletop that kept him upright at all. The book set before him was all but forgotten, his eyes unable to concentrate on the scrolling text and the complex teaching of Septern's magic. It had been nothing more than a distraction anyway, something to pull his consciousness away from the rolling and bucking of the _Calaian Sun_.

He bent forward to rest his head against his forearms as he crossed them over the battered tabletop. The pungent smell of the Lemiir lingered in the air, the bitter taste violating his mouth. Still, its soothing effects would soon start to ease the sickening weakness that kept him prone and unmoving. If it did not, he thought he had just enough strength to lift his dagger from his belt...

He found the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile as he thought that. He'd just as likely try to use the blade against Hirad. That damn barbarian had all but lied to him. Ilkar's unquestionable trust was something that Hirad had long-since earned, thought it seemed recently he was trying to exploit it. Ilkar had voiced his displeasure and disappointment while standing on the docks, one hand gesturing uselessly at the waiting cargo ship, and the other stabbing his devious friend in the chest. He had been aware of the bemused gazes being thrown in his direction, and the murmur of gossip circling the waterfront, but was too intently focussed on the fact that Hirad of all people had lied to him to care. It had only been the Unknown's quiet authority that had reached him, that familiar tone low and plain, addressing him like the child he had been acting.

"_Ilkar. Hirad may have been a little... vague about certain aspects of this journey, but we're here now and you're keeping the crew waiting."_

He had balked at that remark - as though he himself had erred. The Unknown was an advocate of truth and yet he sought to side with Hirad's deception. It had unnerved him, until his sense of rationality kicked in and he remembered their destination. Korina. Obviously the Unknown's silent longing for his family dominated his own distaste for his friend's lies. Bristling, he had nodded curtly and pulled away from them both, his anger welling in the pit of his stomach.

A few hours later, that rage was replaced by intense sickness. As soon as he had stepped foot on board, he had marched straight across the sun-warmed deck and down into the deep reaches of the ship. He had purposely ignored the familiar cabin he often shared with Hirad, choosing instead a single room at the far end of the corridor. He had no wish to be in the company of that man tonight. Even without his indignation, Ilkar much preferred to suffer illnesses alone. It wasn't seemly to voice one's pains in the company of others. And besides, he really needed the quiet.

The nausea had not been long in taking him, as he had expected. The gentle pitching had seemed to be taking hold of his stomach with every roll, fingers kneading and pulling at his insides until his head was swimming. A pouch of Lemiir had been wordlessly passed to him as had entered the lower deck of the ship, its crew aware of his weak disposition during sea travel. A distant embarrassment had been afforded him when he realised his debility was common knowledge. He craved more than anything then to be in the warm study of the Rookery and this whole affair forgotten. If only his mage tutors had been versed in time magics...

The Lemiir gone, and the quiet absorbing his soft sighs, he was set for a miserable night. Hopefully the stupid barbarian would have the good sense to leave him alone until they were back on dry land, and failing that, hopefully the Unknown had the presence of mind to keep him away. He wasn't looking to start a verbal sparring match while in this condition. All he wanted was silence and peace.

And it would seem that he would get neither.

There was a soft rap on the sturdy oak door, an intrusion of his private sanctuary and a focus for his remaining anger. He parted his lips to let a few choice words fill the silence, but before they could tumble free the door was pushed open and heavy boots sounded loud against the wooden floor. Entering without waiting for permission. The knock had been a formality with the rest of the etiquette ignored. Ilkar frowned. There was only one person...

A dark shadow washed over him as the footsteps drew closer until he could feel the very heat from the body behind him.

"Reading while suffering seasickness? Brave, that."

Ilkar's hands fisted on the tabletop. Hirad's voice sounded so casual, and his closeness also indicated that the tactless barbarian assumed that things were okay between them. Ilkar's little fit forgotten.

The elf's ears pricked as he swung round to face the warrior, his face burning with both illness and indignation. Had he the strength, he would have booted the bastard and taken that infuriating expression right off his face.

"So that's it?" he demanded hotly, his eyes narrowed and a perfect expression of disbelief etched into his elegant features. "All this time to dwell on your actions, your _lies_, and that's all you can come up with? A clever comment and an innocent expression? You've been practicing."

Hirad noted the dripping sarcasm and held up his calloused hands as if to fend off the verbal barrage. He knew Ilkar had been less than pleased with his... omission of certain details but it wasn't as though he'd forced the mage onto a ship full of Xeteskians. Hell, it wasn't as though Ilkar didn't even want to take this trip. He was just being difficult.

He sighed, dispelling some of his own frustration. Ilkar could really draw things out when he wanted to.

"Look, I know I should have just told you-"

"Do you really think so?"

"-But I don't see why you're making such a big deal about this. You wanted to go to Korina, right? It won't take much longer than riding."

Ilkar stared with mute incredulity at the barbarian's own put out face.

"Do you think that's what this is about?" he asked, slow and careful. "The inconvenience of travelling by ship?"

Hirad paused and, for a wonder, thought over his next words. However, the ailing mage did not allow him the chance to voice them. He shakily stood from his bowed position, one had resting on the back of the wooden chair, the other weaving in frustrated gesture.

"You are unbelievable."

His voice held real surprise, and Hirad frowned as Ilkar pressed a hand against his sweat-slicked forehead, his slanted eyes narrowed. Maybe now was not the time for this discussion.

_Argument._

Semantics. A worthless debate. All he knew was that his friend looked on the verge of passing out and he was being an ass an making things worse. However, Ilkar could be just as stubborn as him sometimes, and he wasn't sure he could mollify the mage just now. Still, he wasn't just going to leave things like this, either. His hands flexed at his sides ready to subdue the Julatsan if he looked ready to cast...

"I think you should sit down," he started, taking half a step forward.

"I think you should piss off."

Hirad raised an eyebrow at that. "I see your sickness hasn't stilled that clever tongue of yours."

The mage felt his cheeks burn at the warrior's words, searching that passive face to see what meaning had been laced there. Of all the times to bring up _that_.

He stood paralysed in his fuming silence, half wishing to shove that stupid barbarian out the door and half wanting to collapse into him. His legs felt ready to buckle and his eyes were hurting in the dull lamplight, intensifying the ache in his head. He wanted to shake his senses back, but was reluctant to stir the growing pain. Instead, he sighed miserably and lowered himself back into the chair. His voice, when it came, was quiet and tired.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, sounding so weary that Hirad finally felt the twinges of guilt that had so far been ignored.

Even so, the barbarian merely shrugged. "Didn't think you'd come. And it's not like I really lied. Merely, avoided the parts about sea travel."

Ilkar would have smiled had the rocking of the ship not forced his throat to tighten again. He hated that his anger towards the warrior could never last, his grudges over before they could begin. Hirad's face was a picture, forcing some of the rage from his aching body. In the low light he could just make out the slight narrowing of his eyes, and the way he licked his lips as though nervous for an answer. It was almost endearing, that his words were so needed. With a slight dip of his head, he turned his slanted eyes up to the darkened ones staring back at him.

"And why, pray tell, did you think it clever to choose a ship over our horses?"

Hirad glanced away, one hand coming up to scuff at his unshaven, red beard.

"I told you," he offered, remembering their altercation on the docks. "The horses have run the length and breadth of Balaia in the past few weeks. I wasn't sure they'd make a straight ride from Blackthorne to Korina. Besides, Jevin was already heading this way and offered us a ride. We'd have had to pay for lodgings and..."

He trailed off as he saw the smirk unfold on the mage's pale face.

"What?"

He waved a hand. "Nothing. It's just that we've had this conversation before sometime."

Hirad frowned, clearly not remembering the discussions surrounding Denser's arrival. Ilkar filled it in for him.

"The glint of truesilver verses me."

The barbarian's eyes widened, unsure whether to allow the smile he felt form on his lips, or to remain quiet at the wistful look that passed through his friend's startling eyes. His moment of uncertainty, of hesitation, was all Ilkar needed to regain himself and push the good humour aside. In the silence, he felt suffocated, and the nausea nagging at his stomach was making him irritable.

"I don't appreciate being lied to, Hirad, no matter how small or stupid." he sighed into the gloom. "You've known me long enough to understand that. Besides, you'd be the first to point out that it's not how the Raven works."

In the dim light, with the mage's face turned to the side, Hirad was unsure whether he was mocking or chiding him. His quiet voice gave nothing away.

"Yeah, I know," he finally answered, his voice as quiet as it would ever get, the strains of his indiscretion setting the tone. "And I'm sorry. I just know how much you hate the sea."

Ilkar couldn't hold back the small laugh that escaped, the look on Hirad's face making it seem even funnier. Only he, the heart of the Raven, the stupid barbarian, could come up with such an answer.

"So you thought you'd make plans behind my back and lie to me until we arrived at the docks and I had no choice but to go with you?" he answered, humour lacing his voice. "That's brilliant, even for you."

Hirad submitted to the lingering smile at Ilkar's precisely delivered sarcasm, relieved when it was reciprocated. And, for some reason he couldn't quite pinpoint, he felt distantly embarrassed. A rough hand reached up and scratched at his scalp, eyes flickering into nothing as he allowed the quiet to surround them. The words he wanted to say remained locked away within his wandering mind. He couldn't quite bring himself to put an end to this wonderful, teasing conversation. Even at their most frustrated, their anger towards one another was seldom real. And it was these verbal jousts that followed that he found he enjoyed more than anything. Of course, both could deliver a barbed remark, or quietly acute comment, regardless of argument or mirth. It came naturally to both of them. But there was something about the relief of breaking through anger, of being forgiven with a light smile, that held the most reward. Like now, with Ilkar's eyes sparkling in delight at quieting the rash barbarian.

"Did you really think I would have stayed behind?" the elf asked, lacing his fingers together under his chin.

Hirad could see the distant amusement in the mage's dark eyes, and the silent daring there to answer truthfully. And the barbarian was never one to back down from a challenge. He leaned in close, eyes locking with Ilkar's as he spoke low, and meaningfully, into the silence.

"No," he breathed. "I always knew I'd make you come."

A beautiful pink stained the elf's cheeks and Hirad stared at him unflinching. It was a deliciously drawn out moment. The mercenary mage of the Raven sat before him with an indignant blush painting his pale face - a sight so rare that Hirad knew he'd remember that look forever. All too soon it slipped away and all that remained was an uncertain smile and heavy silence, Ilkar looking for all the world like he wasn't sure what just happened. Hirad didn't give him the chance to recover and continued as though he'd never given those words a voice.

"Though I half expected it would be with ShadowWings on your back."

As soon as he had continued, Ilkar drew himself up, his mouth set in a displeased line, face betraying the surprise he still felt. Hirad knew that the elf had too much dignity to allow that remark to fluster him. After all, didn't it say more about Ilkar's mind than his own that he chose to hear the words that way? To anyone else it would have been an innocent statement. Ilkar would try to hide the fact he had thought anything other than that. Sure enough, no more than a heartbeat later, Ilkar's face was a passive blank and the moment was seemingly forgotten. Hirad bowed down to the elf's silent wish to ignore it.

"So... How's the Lemiir working?" Hirad asked slowly, glancing around for somewhere to sit. "You look awful."

He perched on the edge of the wooden cot, watching intently as the mage cocked his head and narrowed his eyes a little.

"Clearly not very well," he muttered, shifting his weight in the hard-backed chair. "You do remember what tact is don't you, or do I have to refresh your memory of that wonderful conversation?"

They smiled, Hirad bringing his eyebrows down to draw a humbled expression across his weather-beaten face.

"You must look worse than you feel if you can keep coming out with these biting comments of yours," he grinned. "It's all that pining for land that's doing it."

The elf's ears pricked and his dark, flat eyes narrowed to slits, leaning forward towards the barbarian with a dangerous look on his face.

"It's looking at your ugly face that's doing it," he retorted. "Your mere presence offends me."

Hirad gave a short bark of laughter, seeing the mask slip from Ilkar's ashen face and the bright smile unfold. Still, even as the grin lit up Hirad's rugged features, and the lightness spread through his body, a very real concern for his friend's wellbeing sprang forth. In the candlelight, the sweat on the elf's forehead glistened, and the slight frown of a moment's pain did not go unnoticed.

"Really, Ilks," Hirad started, nodding towards the mage with an uneasy gaze. "You don't look so good."

Ilkar nodded, becoming aware of the chill again now his mind refocused on his condition. "Actually, I'm feeling better. A little weak, but at least I'm not fighting not to fall anymore. I think distraction is the best remedy."

"Hence the book."

Ilkar smiled. "Hence the book."

"Is it working?"

The elf rolled his eyes, pressing a hand to his cold, clammy skin. "Yes. Obviously."

"Then maybe you need a more... engaging distraction."

Hirad's white teeth seemed bright against the dark beard and tanned face as he bared them in a wholly suggestive grin. This time, he chose not to hide his intentions behind veiled words and choice innuendo. Ilkar merely stared at him in mute disbelief, one eyebrow raised and head tilted.

"Of course," he nodded, his voice thick with mock appreciation. "Of course that's what I need right now. Nothing like a rough tumble in the sheets to rid oneself of seasickness."

"Exactly."

Ilkar raised a finger and turned his head away. Hirad could be a selfish and thoughtless bastard when he wanted to be, but surely he hadn't seriously come here with the hope of getting his leg over. The mage's ears twitched in frustration, his head whirring with the absurdity of the situation, all the while becoming more and more aware that the Lemiir was relieving him of his nausea. He hadn't lied when he had said he felt better, but he was hardly going to allow Hirad to have his way with him.

"If you want it that bad, surely Sha-Kaan would be more than happy to lend his Dragonene a hand."

Hirad smirked, rising from his position on the bed to lean over the fuming elf.

"See? Those witty barbs are all but proof that you're fine," he grinned, his voice low and husky. "You said yourself you felt better, _and_ that you need a distraction. Just think of it as a way to make the trip more... pleasurable."

Ilkar gave a short laugh. "Yes. But it would be a _short_ respite, wouldn't it?"

The barbarian smiled in spite of himself, the mage's slight so precisely delivered, and allowed himself to revel in the fire that was smouldering in Ilkar's startling eyes. It was that fire Hirad lusted after.

"Feeling brave, Ilks?" he asked, leaning forward to grip at the arms of the chair where the elf sat, effectively trapping him. "To me that sounds like a challenge."

Ilkar stared hard at him. "Yes. I've always found your company a challenge."

Again, they smiled into the low light.

For a moment, there was nothing but companionable silence in the room, the shadows flickering and playing over the scene. Hirad was leaning in close to the sickly elf, his eyes intently searching the ashen, clammy face before him. Ilkar was one to suffer privately, but when seasickness took hold of him he was quite content to advertise for a sympathiser to put him out of his misery, such was his discomfort. It was rare to see him so vulnerable, if that was the right word. Though, being an elf, his physique and look were nothing short of elegant, almost to the point you could call him pretty, he was still a consummate mercenary. He wasn't the kind of person to wallow in injury and self-pity. If anything, at the first sign of illness his initial though would be to determine just how much it would affect his mana stamina and ability to cast, then try to work around it by framing simpler spells that wouldn't drag at his reserves. Giving voice to his discomfort was more to do with battle tactics than anything else. And while he admired that, Hirad had to admit he wished the elf would consider his health for more personal reasons.

The barbarian let the smile fall from his lips as he released his hold on the chair and took a step backwards. Ilkar watched silently, one hand reaching up to brush the trails of his dark hair off his forehead, feeling the way his fingers trembled. The first few hours were always the worst. But between the Lemiir and Hirad's wandering conversation, he was at least no longer aware of the intensity of the sickness that assaulted him. He had to give the barbarian credit for that.

"Do you want me to call Denser or Erienne in here?"

Ilkar shook his head softly. "There's nothing they can do."

Hirad's grin found purchase again, his head nodding towards the Julatsan as he rolled his eyes.

"And here I thought you mages had a spell for everything," he laughed. "You're all just full of talk and empty promise."

His laughter echoed around the cabin as Ilkar stared at him looking wholly affronted.

"You weren't saying that after the fiasco with the Black Wings," he muttered lowly, distantly remembering the gripping pain of watching his friend slip away before his very eyes, a pain he had felt more acutely that that of his own beating.

Hirad loomed over the prone mage again, his eyes sparkling in the dull lamplight.

"Perhaps, but whose fault was that anyway? Letting yourself get caught like that, I don't know..."

"Oh yes, Hirad," Ilkar murmured, turning his head slightly. "I made it so easy for them. And I was so pleased when they decided to chain me to a wall and set about breaking my arm and ribs."

He rolled a thumb over his now closed eyes, feeling the slight sway of the ship ease him to the side. Even though the nausea was slowly fading, he was still drained from the exertion of vomiting his stomach dry. Weariness set about him like a shroud, his body stiff and aching.

"Yeah, I thought you'd enjoyed that," Hirad offered, his tone low and uneasy.

He still hadn't quite come to terms with the fact Ilkar had chosen to die at his side, using his remaining mana to sustain the barbarian's life rather than his own. It was an act he was still unable to comprehend, and one that he would never forget. He couldn't even begin to speak his gratitude, simply at a loss for the words worthy of such an act. He doubted he would ever find them.

But Ilkar knew, and he was content with the fact they were both alive and breathing. That was enough.

Hirad finally drew from his thoughts to regard the elf with a quiet stare.

"You should try and rest," he said, quelling the guilt that nagged at his stomach. "It'll be a long night if you just sit here."

Ilkar nodded, tiredly. "Yes, I think I will."

His hands flattened against the tabletop, giving support as he lifted himself slowly to his feet. He watched with amusement as Hirad tried to reach out a hand to guide him to the low bed.

"I think I'll be able to make it the three feet or so to the bunk, Hirad."

The barbarian raised his hands in mock surrender and stood back to lean against the doorframe. The elf moved easily across the small room, his footsteps light and certain on the rocking floor. The heavy cloak was removed and folded at the foot of the bed, Ilkar collapsing gratefully into the comfort of the soft mattress. Those startling eyes of his fluttered closed for a second, before blinking back up to regard the barbarian hovering by the door.

"Thank you," he smiled, tucking one arm under his aching head. "Though not for forcing this upon me, obviously."

Hirad nodded. "Obviously."

Another smile passed between them.

"Just think," the barbarian offered. "In a few days you'll be in the study of the Rookery poring over some book on magic, or other such nonsense, and all this will be forgotten."

"I hope so," the mage groaned, wincing as a fresh wave of nausea rolled over him. Only that could have forced him to ignore the slight on his calling. "I'd hate to think that this could go on forever."

His eyes closed again and remained so. Hirad watched him a moment, watching as those ears turned red in irritation at his prolonged presence.

"Are you sure I can't persuade you to try an alternate remedy?"

"Goodnight, Hirad."

The barbarian smiled. "Night, Ilks. Sweet dreams."


End file.
